On the Edge
by Wingward
Summary: After the Hundred Years War, all eighteen-year-olds must take a test that sorts them into one of the four Nations. Kya-la, daughter of Katara and Zuko, faces an impossible choice between leaving the world she knows or never knowing the other life she could live. - AU, takes place in between A:TLA and LOK, if Divergent were to take place in the Avatar universe
1. Chapter 1

As we shuffle along wordlessly toward the village center with our heads looking down, all that can be heard is the faint sound of crunching snow. The dark sky, usually so full of jubilant stars, looks dimmer and gloomier than usual.

And then, there it is.

The platform.

There is a collective nervous exhale as we're ushered up the stairs like prisoners to the gallows. We line up alphabetically and stand shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the audience.

Four fires, one at each corner, illuminate the stage, but they make it difficult to see beyond them. I know my family is sitting out there somewhere and I desperately try to find them. After a quick scan, I know it is pointless. Besides, today is not about family.

I hear floorboards creaking and glance to my right, where Chief Sokka approaches. He takes a step in front of us all and begins his speech.

"Today, we honor the young men and women that stand before us."

I've listened to this speech for years, but always from the other side. Somehow, even though I know the words are the same, they feel different.

"Let us congratulate them on reaching this important milestone in their lives."

By that, of course, he means that we're all eighteen. The real milestone is yet to come.

The chief reads a list of names. There are just over twenty of us. Kiana's name is read first and I want to reach out and give her had a squeeze, but it seems frozen to my side.

Next, of course is my name. All those years in the audience, I never understood why the people standing up here all looked so scared. It makes sense now.

"Tomorrow," Chief Sokka continues, "they begin the first chapter of their adult lives.

"For some, that means a return. But others will touch the snow for the last time."

Usually only about four people transfer to different nations, and of those, it's mostly nonbenders. Still, benders and nonbenders alike all pause in this moment to wonder if the Chief is talking about them.

"No matter what happens, however, we know that here we have raised them well."

There's always a plea for us to stay. From the day we learned about the test, standing here in this square nearly ten years ago, they've always told us one thing: you cannot change the results. But with the population still recovering from the Fire Nation raids during the war, they always hope that we'll stay.

"And with the principles of the Southern Water Tribe in their hearts, these fine young men and women will be a positive force of change."

 _For water is the element of change,_ I think.

"For water is the element of change."

 _And we trust them to choose the right paths._

"And we trust them to choose the right paths."

 _Even if it means leaving everything behind?_

"Even if it means leaving everything behind."

I try to look out beyond the stage again, but the light from the fire makes it impossible to see. _But this isn't about them_ , I remind myself.

"So tonight let us celebrate their lives here and wish them well wherever they end up."

This final statement is met with resounding applause.

We are ushered to a large tent illuminated by several tall lanterns. There is a table with traditional water tribe food. The smells alone make me want to stay here, regardless of what any test says. No one would ever know if I went against my results.

A minute later, I hate myself for cursing the test. My parents themselves helped design it, so I of all people should be in support of it and should trust what the result it gives.

Thought I'm not sure if I could ever support something that tells you where you're supposed to belong.

Suddenly, I feel someone jumping on my back. Over my shoulder, I see a mess of curls as dark as the winter sky. "Izumi!" I say. She hops down and I give her a hug. "Did you like the ceremony?"

She rolls her eyes. "I liked it about as much as I liked it last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. And the–"

"Hey, I get it," I say, holding up my hands. "Trust me, it's no more fun when you're standing up there."

As we get in line for the food, the rest of my family catches up to Izumi and me. Lu Ten gives me a hug, too, but his is more sorrowful than my sister's, like he's gripping onto something for the last time.

"You worry too much," I whisper when he refuses to let go.

He looks down at me with big blue eyes. _When did he get so big?_ I wonder. _How did I let so much time go by?_

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of drums. A group of people start playing music, and then the celebration really begins. With all of the bodies under the tent, it quickly warms up, but not enough to make me feel comfortable in the thin dress I'm wearing. I wish it wasn't necessary to get dressed up, but it's the tradition. Maybe halfway through I can sneak out to our igloo and grab my heavy parka.

I've never been one for dancing, so I sit along the edge and watch everyone else and try to soak up as much of the energy as I can.

Maybe I won't have to leave. Maybe I'll take the test and it will send me right back here. Maybe I'll stay and raise kids of my own and watch them go through the same agony I'm feeling right now.

Or maybe I won't.

My mom stops by and sits next to me on the bench.

"Nervous?" she asks.

I shrug. She knows what it means and wraps an arm around my shoulder.

"Kya-la, no matter where you end up, you'll always be my daughter and I'll always be proud of you."

I want to say so much, but at the same time I want to say nothing at all, so I just nod.

She gets up and pulls my brother into dancing. He looks miserable and dances as clumsily as a lame penguin. I laugh at him. He catches me doing so and runs over to drag me into the center of the floor, where Izumi and Mom follow. I wish my father were here.

The music picks up and suddenly I'm moving faster and actually enjoying myself. It gets so warm that I forget about the parka and get lost instead in the music and the light. I don't know how long I'm there dancing with them, but when I catch a glimpse of Kiana, all my movement slows to a halt as I remember the real reason we're here.

All of this is just a distraction from the reality of tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you so much for reading this! I had previously published two chapters of this story, but they didn't sit quite right with me and decided to take a different approach. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while, but didn't exactly know how to get it out there. So I apologize if you're re-reading this, but I really think (and hope) that you'll like this version better. This is my first time doing this, so reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

By the next morning, there is no hint of the festivities that took place the night before. The brightly burning fires are extinguished, leaving us in the seemingly eternal darkness of winter. The tent where everyone danced and laughed has been taken down and stored away until the next celebration.

I know exactly when that will be: seven weeks from now, when the new generation of water tribe adults complete the initiation process. I know exactly what food will be served: the very same traditional dishes that were so comforting last night. I know exactly how the ceremony will be run; I've seen it many times. I know exactly every speech that will be said. I know exactly what will happen at each moment.

The only thing I don't know is if I will be there.

When I finish getting ready for the day, I set out toward the edge of the village.

It's still early in the morning – early than I usually get up, that is. There's hardly anyone out, only the hunters and fishers going out to catch as much game as they can. The fires that line the paths have yet to be lit, so I know I have at least two hours before I have to head back.

I keep walking silently toward my favorite spot, following the moon. It's only five minutes from the last hut, and I'm there before I can even feel the frosty air through my mittens.

Even in the darkness, the ice cliffs are as breathtaking as ever. Like little mountains shaped by the wind, snow and ice reflect the moonlight from every angle. It's too dangerous for humans to cross the cliffs, but that doesn't stop the other animals from climbing and sliding down their peaks.

I don't know how long I'm sitting there in silence before I hear faint footsteps. When they're finally right beside me, a very familiar figure sits beside me and I smile to myself.

And then there are two of us sitting in silence. I know we're both reminiscing on everything we've done here and talked about. All the words, all the smiles, all the laughs, all the tears.

All the years. All gone. All passed.

What next?

Then, I can't handle it anymore.

"Let's go climb them."

Kiana looks at me incredulously. "Are you kidding, Kya-la? Do you remember what happened when we tried that before?"

A flash of phantom pain travels through my left arm. "Okay, but you have to admit, I'm a much better bender now."

She laughs and sighs. "Besides, we don't have the time."

"Sure we do," I say. "We could climb up there and then when they come looking for us, I'll cover us in snow so they can't see us. Then they'd have to leave for the test and we would just never take it and live here forever."

"And become nationless, you mean," she corrects me. I know she's right. Without the test and a proper initiation, we could never really belong to the water tribe. Being nationless – living as a refugee, an outsider, without a say or a voice in tribal affairs – is no way to live.

"I just wish we didn't have to go through all this."

Her silence is the strongest response.

Suddenly, I hear what sound like three small explosions – Sokka's clock. He got the idea from a mechanist he met when traveling with the avatar all those years ago. Spark powder. Naturally, when he returned to the south, he began working on a way to make it useful for the entire village to know what time it is even when the sun won't help us.

I'm the first one to stand. Kiana remains fixated on the cliffs for just a second longer. I can tell what she's thinking.

"This isn't the last time we'll be here. I promise."

And I do. I truly believe that one way or another, we will both end up back here. Maybe our clothes won't match and maybe we'll live hours apart, but we are like magnets, and I will always feel a tug to return here and to see her again.

She stands and we start heading back in silence. It's much easier now that the fires are lit in the village. Even off in the distance, they are beacons.

Kiana goes off to pack her things and I return to our igloo. I've been packed for days, now, so I use the little time I have left at home to say goodbye to my family.

When I was ten, Uncle Sokka thought it was time for me to learn how to hunt. My mother protested, but he insisted that it was a necessary tribal custom. _"No niece of mine is ever going to go out into the world without the basic skills to provide for herself in a survival situation!"_

It was a long process that took several weeks. First, he taught me how to make simple weapons, like a spear, and then more complex ones, like a bow and arrow. I argued that I'll always be able to have my bending and it's way faster than sharpening a stone and messing with the string tension of the bow. Nevertheless, I learned, and soon, I was proficient on nearly every weapon that Southern hunters used.

On my first trip into the hunting grounds, we stumbled across and injured arctic fox. It was sad to see its beautiful white fur stained red with blood. Uncle Sokka told me that we should kill it. I asked him why we had to kill this beautiful creature when it was clearly going to die anyway, so we should let it live as long as it can.

He told me that sometimes, it is better to get something over with, no matter how painful it is, than to have to suffer with that pain for a long time. Then he told me to close my eyes. Even though I knew how to repair spears back into deadly condition, I was still only ten.

As I stood there in the home that held so many memories, I begged for someone to come along and put me out of my misery. The longest goodbyes are the most difficult.

And the worst part of hugging your siblings for the last time is that it might not actually be for the last time. Maybe if I knew for sure, I would hold on a little longer, breathe in their scent a little deeper, run my fingers through their hair a little slower. Either way, I make it clear how much I love them.

When it's finally just my mother and me, we do not cry. We both know that we will see each other again on the day of the Choosing Ceremony. Then we will cry, be it out of joy or sadness.

"So, do you have any advice for the test?"

Her aged blue eyes look deeply into mine.

"Don't try to be someone you're not, or you'll spend the rest of your life wondering if the results were false. You'll only know for sure that they're real when you're completely honest with yourself."

I want to reply with sarcasm, but I don't have it in me. She hugs me and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.

Then, the spark candle sounds four times. I only have minutes before I have to be on the boat. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head out the entrance. My hand lingers on the worn seal skin that covers the opening before letting it go and heading for the dock.

There are five boats there. Ordinarily, the twenty-three of us could fit onto two of the larger ones, but they want to keep us as separate as possible before the test.

I check in with the Chief and he directs me to the one in the center. It's not my first time in a water tribe boat, but it is the first time I have felt this far away from home despite being surrounded by familiar objects.

I hand up my bag and get settled on a hammock. Minutes pass. Something is not right.

Only moments after this realization, there is a knock at my cabin door. It's Uncle Sokka.

"Kya-la could you help us with something?" He asks. I nod, get up, and follow him up the stairs.

"There's not enough wind in the bay right now to get us going," he explains along the way. "We need you to help the boats get out to sea."

I can see I'm not the only waterbender on board the ship; there are already two middle-aged men – originally from the North, no doubt – trying to pull the water around the ship. I look to the other boats and see similar efforts.

I breathe in and focus on the feeling of the moon fueling my strength. I look out and see Lu Ten and Izumi poking out in the crowd of people waving us off. Every push and pull pains me as I burn the bridge between me and them.

Soon, I feel the boat move beneath my feet and the people waving to us start to shrink. Uncle Sokka claps a hand on my shoulder and thanks me. He tells me to head back to my cabin, and I obey.

But before slipping beneath the wooden boards, I take one long last look at the moonlit sky.

Whatever happens next, there is no going back.


	3. Chapter 3

A woman comes around to my room with a small cup of dark liquid and tells me to drink it.

"Why?"

"It'll help you sleep."

I know she is not telling me the whole truth, but I swallow it in one gulp. It tastes fruity. She smiles and moves on to the next room.

The effects don't take long to set in – it must be particularly potent. It has to be, since we are forbidden to know the location of the island where the test takes place. My eyelids feel heavy and I crawl back in the hammock, pulling a blanket over me.

* * *

When I wake up, the tides feel different. We must be hours – possibly even days - away from home. I lay in the hammock for a few minutes more, shaking off the groggy feeling left behind by the concoction.

A bell pierces through the haze and I instinctively get up. Judging by the sound of creaking wood all around me, the others are doing the exact same thing.

I take my leather bag and open the door to the corridor. Already, people are heading to the deck.

The first thing I notice is the sun. It must be midday here because it is high in the sky, blinding me for a few seconds. After being in the dark for nearly three months, we must look crazy to the other nations (if they can see us, that is, because I can't see them), like wolf bears emerging from a cave after hibernating.

Once it doesn't hurt to open my eyes, I take a good look around to see where I am. It's a large island, lush and green, so we're somewhere in the northern hemisphere. The air is warm and moist, and sounds of birds fill my ears.

That, and the sound of boats as well. In addition to our five from the South, there are six much larger sailboats with the mark of the Northern Water Tribe. To our right, I can see three different green steamboats, but there must be more hidden from my view. The Earth Kingdom is the most populous of the four nations, after all. Beyond them must be the ships belonging to the Fire Nation. I can't see them, but their loud clanking is unmistakable.

I follow the others and climb down the ladder onto the sandy beach. Once the adults do a head count, we follow the Chief toward an open clearing. Along the way, we pass several flying bison – the air nomads are here, too.

There are hundreds of chairs set up in what looks like an amphitheater. I never expected to see so many people here all at once, but then I remember that this is one of the first years where we are forced to take the test.

In order to make an effective transition, the testing system was optional for the first two years. Very few opted to do it, and nearly all of them ended up transferring. After that, world leaders began encouraging students by offering monetary benefits to them and their families. As expected, there was an influx of lower-class, unskilled students taking the test. In reaction to that, the bargaining value became government favors – upper-class families would send their children to take the test and in return, they could push for a new policy or get the government to finally take care of that road problem.

But even with that, the most important people – the sons and daughters of the world leaders and families already in the government – still weren't taking the very test that their parents sponsored. So the leaders announced that the test would be mandatory for all eighteen-year olds. I'm sure many were upset by that, but I was relieved: when the test is optional, only those who feel like they're going to transfer choose to take it. I wouldn't be able to make that decision.

We are instructed to sit, though after such a trip, we are very restless. The other nations seem to have as much nervous energy as we do, and I take some comfort in that.

A tall woman with black hair cut shorter than most men walks to the center of the stage and holds up her hands. We take the signal and stop talking immediately.

"Welcome. My name is Yuriko," she begins. Her voice has an abrasive quality to it, but that might be a result of her talking so loudly. "I'm sure that you're all very anxious to begin your test. I assure you, that will all happen in good time."

Her demeanor changes and she clearly tries to be more welcoming and motherly, but it feels unnatural.

"I don't know what rumors you've heard about this test, but allow me to dispel them all. It is not scary, it is not grueling, we are not out to get you. We are simply trying to observe as many of your behaviors as we can. So yes, it is necessary for us to put you through tasks that are occasionally physically or emotionally demanding, but this is not an unsafe environment, and you have nothing to be scared of."

But somehow, telling people that they shouldn't be scared often makes them even more scared.

"In order for our Examiners to effectively sort you into the proper nation, it will be necessary that they are not affected by any sort of biases. This means that all of you will be given neutral gray clothing, and all bending is prohibited." – her voice turns cold and metallic – "Deviation from these guidelines will result in being sent back to your home nation and you will have to wait another year to take the test again.

"Due to the large number here this year, we will be dividing you up into four camps, where you will have more individual treatment. In order to be non-biased, the camps are divided by birthday. Those born between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox will be in Camp One. Those born between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice will be in Camp Two, and so on and so forth."

There is a hushed whisper as people quickly try to figure out where they are placed. People point to friends and hold up a number. Some of them look happy, others heartbroken. I don't need to ask Kiana when she was born; though we were both born in the solar months, I was in the spring and she was after the solstice.

Yuriko holds up her hands and motions for us to be quiet. "Now, before we send you on your way, I would like to remind you all that you cannot beat this test. There are no winners or losers, no successes and no failures. This is simply a sorting, so it would be in your best interest to act naturally and accept whatever results you are given. Enjoy your time here."

Everyone stands and chaos breaks out.


End file.
